bless this mess

I beg your pardon. My site is going to be experiencing some down time as I straighten up. She’s taking a wee little break to keep things from breaking. Alcoholic Arnold Palmer cocktails will be involved. Speaking of which, has anyone tried the Momofuku Milk Bar Arnold Palmer cake? There’s a recipe for it in Garden & Gun Magazine, a periodical to which I now subscribe thanks to my years in Texas. While I neither garden nor gun, I dream in sweet tea and long for the Southern life. I swear, I should move to Alabama or Georgia next.

I am not a Momofuko dessert fan at all. I had been dying to try some of their treats and my husband brought me back one of pretty much everything a month ago so we could sample them all. It was rather hedonistic. I was so disappointed though. Everything we tried was too sticky sweet. I’d been most excited by the blueberry cookie, but it too was pure sugar. I think I could come up with a better one. Likewise, they can keep their crack pie. Yuck. So I’m not hopeful that this cake will be much better.

You know, I couldn’t agree more. I went to Momofuko with my friend Dulce (obviously). The girl doesn’t have a sweet tooth; she has fifteen sweet teeth, so she treated me to one of each cookie and once sent me their crack pie for my birthday. While I adore every single morsel of her, I too, could do without the Momofuko sweets. I just loved the idea of a Masters cake, all Arnold Palmer. But I suspect instead of tasting HOLY SHIT THIS IS INSANE it will taste weird, or funny, in a non ha ha way. If there were a Planet Bonnie in South Florida, I’d get myself there in two shakes. I just don’t know of a superior bakery that serves, for example, cake that tastes like clouds that cool in your mouth. I don’t need the thing to look pretty. Pretty cakes, the majority of them, taste stiff and overly sugared. I want no part of pretty. I just want the thing to taste like something you simply cannot stop eating. Yick, no fondant and no buttercream. I want my icings to be rich with real flavors, cream cheese or white chocolate. A raspberry tiramisu cake. Something.

I too love Garden & Gun! Carrie is right – you would freaking love Atlanta, and we would freaking love you right back! You’d have an instant circle of friends, and an endless supply of sweet tea and snark. Come on up, sugah. :-)

Greetings from DC—I also love G & G. My amazing singer-songwriter friend Marshall Chapman has a piece in their now and then. Usually revolving around food and music—a great combo!
(and I’m with you on the Momofuko sweets. But give me multiple servings of their sprouts!)

Tonight marks a pivotal night in my life. The night I have counted down to for a million years. The night that marks the end of mommy-hood and the start of my ‘real’ life. Yep – tonight the baby turned 18 years old. I am now the proud mom of the 18, 20 and 21 year olds…good god. And they’re spectacular. Beyond words.

I came full circle tonight as I sat with my ex (13 years divorced) and we graciously, beautifully and thoughtfully cradled my daughter in a sphere of love as we celebrated this happy day. Fancy restaurant (actually where the ex and I attended a high-school prom dinner)…she was glowing in her pearls (from me) and Keens (from dad)…and the undivided attention of both her parents. I loved it. And I loved that he is my ex, a good man, but not someone I have to go home with. I love the confidence my girl exudes…so poised, so brilliant, so ready for every next thing.

So – tonight was to be a night of freedom for me – a night of relief and release from the ties that bind. I have planned this night a thousand ways for thousands of days. I imagined myself drinking a toast to me and to fulfilling my commitment to keep my family whole and safe and focused. I never thought it would be like this.

Tonight my mom is struggling for life after this hideous hip replacement gone to shit. I left said dinner to go administer her IV antibiotics as she is trying to fight off this MRSA bacteria which has now invaded our village. Her wound vac canister needed to be replaced, her socks needed to be pulled up, my dad needed to be shored up.

Tonight I realized I am more tightly bound than I ever have been before to this life and this village. A karmic boomerang. I can’t leave yet. Not now.

A bitter-sweet night.

You know what my mantra is now? The exact same thing as it was 13 years ago when I was getting a divorce and facing the next phase of life with the responsibility of the darlings square upon my shoulders. “Courage and strength…courage and strength”. And as always – I will be courageous and strong. It’s who I am and what I do. But damn – a tropical island and a frozen beverage? Well – that’s next.

You know I’m thinking of you. That was me, by the way, who texted you on your phone a few weeks back. Lots of changes. If you swing by South Florida, I’ll make you sleep over and get you pool patio drunk (No longer in Texas, I can’t get you porch drunk). I am, as someone once wrote to me on this blog, keeping the light on for you. We’re all here when you need us, lady. And I’m so so glad you felt you could share *here*. Always. Much love.